


In Service to the Crown

by RosesHaveThorns



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alcohol, Alistair Smut, Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex, Sexy Alistair (Dragon Age), Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosesHaveThorns/pseuds/RosesHaveThorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the new king and his betrothed got up to in private after the coronation. </p>
<p>Also known as: "Why You Should Always Harden Alistair" (and make sure he reads "The Art of Passionate Love" by Brother Capria).</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Service to the Crown

 

Elspeth Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden, stood with her betrothed, the newly-crowned king, talking with him after the coronation. He looked splendid in his golden ceremonial armour. He hadn't wanted to be king, but she knew he would do well, especially with her assistance. They talked about the Blight, about the archdemon, about the apostate witch whose ritual had saved them both. Then the talk grew more personal.

“That armour is quite something,” she commented. “I look forward to seeing you out of it.”

“That can be arranged. I can't wait to get you alone.”

“Indeed. I've never had a king before.”

“Really? Not even one?”

“Just a royal bastard.”

He laughed. “Go on, now, your adoring public is waiting to see their hero.”

“You should be with me. All of our misfit band of companions should be. I couldn't have done this without you, without them...”

“Just you wait for our wedding. That will involve both of us being paraded before the public. I'll be with you, then.”

“Oh, yes, our grand and spectacular wedding,” she said with a sigh. “Foreign dignitaries, feasts, endless parties and balls, public entertainments, all of that, plus you and me being paraded in front of the whole of Ferelden together. But that's not the same, and you know it.”

“Lady Cousland,” Alistair said formally, his voice soft but commanding, “I can hear the crowds outside, awaiting their hero. Go now and do your duty to the people. And later, in private, you will do your duty to your king.”

Elspeth raised an eyebrow at him. This was interesting. She smiled at him, and gave him her best daughter-of-a-powerful-teyrn curtsey, making sure he got a good view down the top of her low-cut, Cousland-blue gown as she did it.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

Several hours later, Elspeth made her way to the royal chambers in the late afternoon, the low heels of her dress shoes clicking on the marble floors as she walked. She had, indeed, gone out to meet the masses. People of all ranks, ages, races, and professions had been cheering and handing her flowers and other gifts, waving, holding up their children to see her and for her to see, even weeping as she passed them with her armed guard entourage. It had been strange, heady, amazing, bizarre, uplifting, exhausting, surreal, humbling, all those things and more.

She nodded to the elite royal guards who were on duty outside the royal suites and stepped into the chamber, turning the key in the lock automatically as she shut the door.

“Ah, here she is, the conquering hero!” Alistair called out from the rather ridiculously large bed, where he was stretched out on the coverlet, dressed in a rather ornate red silk dressing gown. He had a book in his hands, which he put aside. “How was it?”

Elspeth just shrugged, kicking off the not-very-comfortable dress shoes. They weren't difficult to walk in, but they didn't provide any support for he feet or ankles, and they pinched her toes. They did match her gown, however, and she had to admit, they were pretty. Still, her feet weren't entirely happy with with situation. She was definitely a sturdy leather boots kind of woman.

“Do you need help with that?” Alistair asked as she struggled with the laces up the back of the dress.

“Yes, please,” she answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Elspeth couldn't imagine who thought laces down the back was a good idea. Laces down the front, that was fine, or even up the sides, but apparently having them down the back was the latest fashion, and the royal seamstress wouldn't hear of anything else.

“Yes, please, Your Majesty,” he corrected as he started to loosen the silk ties that went from the back of her neck to her waist.

 

When he finished, she carefully wriggled out of the dress and lay it across a chair. Maids could put it away properly whenever she decided to let them in to the chambers.

Elspeth's underclothes were discarded on the floor as she walked to the bed where Alistair lay, all broad shoulders and shapely, muscular limbs and boyish good looks. Her heart constricted a little bit in her chest as she looked at him.

“I'm proud of you,” she said as she climbed onto the bed and tucked her head on his shoulder, just under his jaw. His arms went around her and he kissed the top of her head.

“I was going to say the same thing,” he said softly. “You've always believed in me, even when I didn't, when I couldn't. You've certainly changed my life.”

“You're the king now. That's rather a big change, I'd say.”

“I wasn't sure how I felt about that, to be honest. You know that. But I think it's not so bad. Some things about it are quite good, in fact.”

She slipped her hand inside his silk robe and idly ran her fingers across the scattering of sandy hair on his chest. There was a thicker patch of hair in the centre that trailed down his belly to his groin. She'd followed that trail on many occasions.

“Excuse me, my lady,” he said in his low, commanding voice. “Do you always take such liberties?”

“Do I... what? Alistair, what are you...” She sat up and looked at him, saw the expression on his face, and a slow grin spread across her own. “I see. I'm sorry, Your Majesty, forgive me.”

“That's better. You're a fine consort, but you really need to learn to control yourself, lest I have to step in and control you.”

A wave of excitement hit her, starting in her lower belly and radiating from there. They'd played games like this before, but she was always the one in charge. She was intrigued and aroused to see him take a dominant role, though she didn't know how well she'd be able to be submissive. Time to find out.

“Come here and kiss me,” Alistair said, and Elspeth complied. His hand slid to the back of her head, his fingers entwined in her dark hair. He held her, very gently but also very firmly, while his mouth moved on hers, lips and teeth gently but firmly claiming hers, his tongue stroking her own, the roof of her mouth, her lips. It was a hungry kiss, and incredibly, powerfully arousing.

“How's that?” he asked. “Nice?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“You have a most lovely and talented mouth,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Why don't you show me what else you can do with it?” He took her hand and put it on the silk-covered bulge between his legs. Elspeth nodded and untied the sash on his dressing gown, pulling the sides open to expose his beautiful, naked body.

“Lie back, my king,” she whispered, and he did.

Elspeth repositioned herself so she could move freely over his chest. Her hands roamed over the muscled curves of his torso, her mouth scattering kisses and little bites across his chest. She caught one of his nipples between her lips and flicked the tip of her tongue over it, and he rewarded her with a moan of pleasure. She caught his other nipple with her other hand and rolled it between her fingers, and then, after a while, shifted her position so she could move her mouth to that one, her hand to the nipple she'd been working with her mouth, while he sighed his approval and squirmed a bit on the bed.

She worked her way along his body, nipping and kissing and caressing as she moved down his belly, her hand reaching down to caress his balls as she moved. By now, Alistair was moaning in earnest, one hand gripping the bedclothes, the other raised above his head. When she took his cock in her hand and licked in a lazy circle around the tip of it, he gasped and then groaned deep in his throat, and she continued her work with her mouth, her lips, her tongue, her hands, teasing, pleasuring, pushing him closer and closer to climax. She drew him further into her mouth, moving sensually up and down his cock, her tongue stroking him as she moved, her own throaty noises of pleasure adding to her sensual assault on him. His hand found its way to her head and he tangled his fingers in her hair, murmuring her name, urging her on, his hips moving in rhythm with her mouth. He didn't hold out long against her efforts, nor had she expected him to.

“Oh, yes... Maker... yes...” he groaned as his climax swirled around him. Elspeth worked her mouth on him until he was spent, sucking and swallowing as he finished his orgasm.

When he was finished, she sat up, looking at him as he slowly recovered his senses. He was so beautiful she could hardly stand it sometimes.

“Why don't you get us both a drink?” he managed to say, flipping his hand to indicate the bottles on the table.

“Of course.” The bottles turned out to be her favourite cider, from Rainsefere in the Bannorn. She picked up a corkscrew and pulled the cork from one, and then took a swig directly from the bottle, ignoring the two silver goblets that stood at the ready. She put down her bottle before she opened a second second for Alistair. She knew from experience that it was difficult to drink from a goblet in bed, so she grabbed the two open bottles, sauntered back to bed and simply handed him one, settling herself next to him with her legs tucked up beneath her.

Alistair turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, drinking the cider and looking at Elspeth.

“I don't know if that counts,” he said eventually.

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know if that counts as having had a king,” he explained. “I think you need more to have the full experience. To be able to say you've really had a king.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty? What did you have in mind?”

“First, we'll finish this cider,” he said, raising the bottle to his lips. His gaze held hers as he ran the tip of his tongue around the mouth of the bottle a couple of times before he dipped it into the opening and then let his lips settle around it before tipping it to allow some of the golden liquid into his mouth.

“Maker's breath,” she said. “Where do you learn such wickedness?”

“From you. Mostly.” He grinned at her, displaying the boyish charm she loved so much. But boyish he was not, at least, not now. There had been so many wonderful changes in him in the time she'd known him. He'd gone from an extremely awkward, self-conscious, desperately insecure man-child to a rather magnificent man, sure of himself and his own desires. It was damned sexy, to say the very least.

She drained the last of her cider at the same time he did, and he handed her his empty bottle, gesturing toward the table. She dutifully did as he said, and when she turned back to the bed he was standing beside it, holding his arms out.

“Take care of this,” he said, indicating the silk dressing gown.

“Of course.” She took her time with it, sliding the fabric against his skin with her hands, and running her hands along his bare skin as the silk slipped away. When she couldn't prolong it any further, she took the dressing gown and put it carefully across the chest at the foot of the bed.

“Now, to bed,” he said, and smacked her on the right cheek of her bottom as she started to climb on.

“Alistair! What the --”

“Excuse me, is this how you address your king?” he asked. “I think not. Hands and knees, then, face your arse this way. Come on, it's not complicated,” he added when she stood gawking at him.

Elspeth was both surprised and aroused. She knew he would never hurt her, and he hadn't. The slap he'd put on her arse cheek was stinging extremely pleasantly at the moment, and didn't hurt at all, though it had smarted a bit when he administered it. She was a bit apprehensive, and extremely excited to see what he was going to do next.

He landed a smack on her left cheek, and rather hard. The stinging slap rang out in the room and she yelped, more from surprise than from pain, though it did, indeed, sting. And then his hand was rubbing, very gently, where he'd smacked her, and the sensation was exquisitely arousing.

“Where do you learn these things?” she asked with a groan.

“Oh, that's my secret,” he said with a chuckle. “But I will say, it's extraordinary the number and type of books to be found in the library here at the palace. All manner of strange and interesting things if you know where to look. I understand some of these books have even been banned by the Chantry, imagine that. But, as you know, nobody can tell a king what to do, or, I suppose, what books he's allowed to have in his library. Now, are you going to behave, or do you need another smack?”

She was intrigued, and very aroused, so she wiggled her bottom at him and he smacked her again, this time on the first cheek, but in a slightly different place, and then ran his fingertips over the reddened area. “Like that, do you?”

“Mmmm, it's... interesting....”

He slipped his fingers between her legs and sought out that most sensitive pearl of flesh, which was already throbbing and hard. She gasped, and he rubbed on either side of it, and then in lazy circles around it, making her arch her back and squirm against his hand, moaning with complete abandon. Another smack on her arse startled her, but was strangely warm and incredibly exciting, and he ran his fingertips over the place he'd smacked while still rubbing, teasing, pleasuring her with his other hand.

“Oh, yes... please... ohhhh....” she was whimpering now, so close to release and he abruptly withdrew. “No!” she cried out in frustration.

“Do what you're told, and I'll take care of you, in time,” he said, quietly, his voice like velvet over steel. “On your back, in the middle of the bed if you please.”

She scrambled to obey him and wondered what he had in mind, and in a moment he was kneeling beside her, her wrists held firmly in his hands. “I couldn't find any silk scarves,” he said. “Will definitely have to get some, but for now, I'm going to place your hands and you're going to leave them there, do you understand? Imagine them tied or even chained if you like, but you are not to move them. No touching me, no touching yourself. Got it?”

She nodded, biting her lip. She was so aroused it was painful, but in a most delightful way. Alistair leaned forward and stretched her arms out, a little above her head, placing her hands very firmly and deliberately, to make a point. He moved back so that he could kiss her, a teasing, slow kiss that only made the throbbing between her legs that much worse. She wanted to move her hands, to caress his back, pull him closer, but she didn't.

His mouth moved along her jaw and neck, leaving a slow trail of burning kisses and nips with his teeth. He positioned himself so that he could move down her body, kissing as he went, driving her mad with desire.

“Open your legs, nice and wide.”

If it was possible to climax from the sound of a man's voice, Elspeth might have done. He moved to all fours over her body, his hands straddling her, his knees between her legs, while his mouth moved to her breasts, teasing, nipping, licking, eventually sucking at her nipples, one at a time, making her squirm. She was panting, whimpering, begging for more, begging for some kind of release, just begging in general.

“Oh, you're so demanding,” he said with a sigh. “But I am nothing if not benevolent. What is it you want, then?” He was moving farther down her body, shifting his own body as he went.

“I want... whatever you want,” she managed to say.

“Exactly so,” he chuckled against her belly.

He knelt between her legs and then wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her pelvis off the bed, supporting her with his chest and arms. He dipped his head and inhaled the fragrance of her arousal, and she was very, very aroused. She could feel his breath on her and she squirmed a bit. He tightened his grip on her hips and dipped his face to taste her with his tongue, and she gasped.

“Oh, yes, yes, please... please...”

 

“Please? Please what?”

“Please... Your Majesty?”

He chuckled and kissed her mound, making her squeal. “Tell me what you want,” he said.

“Please... lick me... there...”

“Hmm, yes, I think I might... But why do you want me to do that?”

She groaned, her breath coming in short pants, “I need to come. Please... make me come...”

He pressed his mouth to her, tongue pressing on her throbbing, swollen flesh, holding her hips nearly immobile as he sucked and licked and teased her with his teeth. She climaxed almost immediately, a hot gush of warm moisture drenching them both as she did. She opened her eyes and watched him, his eyes closed, his arms gripping her tightly, working her as if she was a delicious fruit he meant to devour; her erotic tension rose to a sharp, prolonged peak again, and she cried out, practically screaming, and begging him for more. He obliged her, but as her arousal began to build yet again, he pulled his face back, rather abruptly, making her cry out in protest.

He lowered her hips and pulled his body onto her, and her arms instinctively moved to embrace him.

“What did I say about those hands?” he reminded her, and she moved her arms back to where they had been.

“I'm going to fuck you now,” he told her, his voice almost a growl. He pressed his body to hers, and her belly did a flip flop. “I'm going to ride you hard and deep, and maybe tomorrow members of the court might wonder why you can't walk properly but you can't stop smiling.” He moved his hips to get aligned and then thrust his cock into her, hard and deep just as he'd promised, and she heard herself cry out as he filled her up. “Or maybe,” he said, giving another hard, deep, grinding thrust of his hips, “they won't wonder at all.” Yet another grinding thrust of his hips and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Yes, my king, please, fuck me hard,” she whispered.

He moved with slow, deep, deliberate strokes, and she moved her hips with his as she was slowly building to another orgasm, moaning, sighing, lost to the pleasure he gave her.

“You should wait,” he said quietly.

“I should... wait?”

“Yes. Don't come. Not until I tell you to. Understand?”

“Maker's breath, Alistair... my king... yes, as you wish....”

She moved with him, her legs hugging him, her hands gripping the bedclothes but still held away and a little above her head. And he wasn't kidding when he said he was going to ride her hard. He built the rhythm slowly, but every thrust of his cock was deep, his pelvis grinding against hers, every thrust making her grunt with mind-numbing pleasure. It wasn't long before she felt the familiar signs of a building climas. He felt it, too, because he whispered to her, telling her not to come, not yet. It was the sweetest agony, the most ecstatic torture. She was aching for release, burning for it, but deliberately refusing to allow herself that experience, simply because he wanted her to wait.

The pressure built as his rhythm did, faster, harder. “I need to come...” she gasped.

“I know. Wait.”

She groaned, her body screaming for climax. “Now? Please... I can't hold out...”

“Discipline,” he grunted. “Just wait...”

His breathing was ragged, his movements urgent. Her pleasure extreme, and she felt like a bottle of cider that had been shaken up. She was going to either pop her cork or shatter any moment.

“Now,” he demanded suddenly, “come now.”

And so she did, releasing all that held back erotic tension in one tremendous, universe-shaking climax. She actually screamed with her release, awash in an orgasm so powerful she lost focus on everything but the waves of sexual ecstasy that felt like they might consume her. As she slowly came down, her body trembling slightly, she became aware of his drastically slowed pace, his pelvis moving in slow, lazy circles as he rode out his own climax. All she could do was collapse bonelessly on the bed, eyes closed, breathing ragged.

“Holy Andraste's flaming tits,” she swore when she had recovered her breath enough to speak. Alistair had flopped out beside her, his hand resting on her hip, his own breathing as rough as hers. He chuckled and kissed her shoulder.

They lay together in silence for a while, basking in the afterglow. Eventually, he pulled her closer and nuzzled his face into her neck.

“Mmmmm, I love you,” he offered. “Who knew you could be so... compliant?”

“And who knew you could be so dominant?”

They lay in companionable silence for a while longer before she finally spoke again.

“You're going to be a fine king, my love.”

 

 

 


End file.
